


Intermediate Mood Therapy

by Lavavulture



Series: One, Two, Three [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 06:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5152937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavavulture/pseuds/Lavavulture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian is off playing with the Inquisitor and Iron Bull works out his frustration with Cole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intermediate Mood Therapy

Dorian Pavus had one of the world’s greatest asses. Iron Bull had made it his policy to see as many as possible so he knew what he was talking about and Dorian’s was a masterpiece. At the moment that beautiful ass was rippling around the room as Dorian packed. Iron Bull felt neglected.

“I feel neglected,” Iron Bull said.

“You poor creature. It must blow your mind that I might occasionally have more important things to do than you.” Dorian sounded snotty, which was really unfair because he knew that it riled Iron Bull up more. That haughty tone was practically begging Iron Bull to turn him over his knees.

“It’s been weeks, _kadan_.” Iron Bull spread open his legs, just to accommodate a problem which was apparently not going to be addressed anytime soon. “Don’t tell me you didn’t miss me.”

“Oh, hardly. I was good hands.” Dorian paused in his bustling and turned around, slowly, sensuously. His mouth was curled in a teasing smirk that made Iron Bull spread his heavy thighs out farther. “You told Cole to keep an eye on me, remember?”

Iron Bull grunted. “What did you two do while I was gone?”

“What didn’t we do?” Dorian dropped his pack to the ground and finally consented to come inside Iron Bull’s personal space. He slid his hands up Iron Bull’s shoulders and pressed against him, lightly. Iron Bull immediately wrapped his hands around Dorian’s backside. “I wanted to give him a thorough education before you came back and taught him bad techniques.”

Iron Bull briefly imagined his gorgeous mage turning his full attention on poor sweet Cole and it made him squeeze Dorian with eager hands. Dorian made a scoffing noise but moved closer, full lips parted.

“I’m not kidding around here, Dorian. We’re leaving now.” Cadash shouted through the door and kicked it once for good measure. The Inquisitor had many good traits but patience was certainly not one of them.

“I have to go,” Dorian said, breathing out warm against Iron Bull’s waiting mouth. “Mustn’t keep a lady waiting.”

“I just got back,” Iron Bull grumbled for what felt like twentieth time since he’d arrived that morning only to have Cadash decide that she was marching right back out with a fresh group. Sometimes he felt like she only came back to Skyhold to see what the Advisers had cooked up for her in her absence. Certainly she never seemed to sleep.

“Too bad,” Dorian murmured, tone mocking but still somehow expressing genuine disappointment. He moved away and Iron Bull watched that ass abandon him for duty or some shit.

Iron Bull pursed his lips together in irritation. “Well, fuck.”

 

He hadn’t even really meant to find Cole. Iron Bull had gone up onto the walls to absolutely not sadly watch Dorian leave him to explore the Emerald Graves with a chipper Varric and a glowering Cassandra. However once he'd watched the last tempting bit of Dorian march off into the distance he’d turned around and almost tripped right over Cole, who sitting on the other edge of the wall and staring down into the courtyard.

“Fuck, Kid, you really gotta watch it with that spooky stuff. I almost sent you tumbling down,” Iron Bull said, sucking in a deep breath in surprise.

Cole didn’t respond and Iron Bull began to realized that he wasn’t just staring aimlessly like he was want to do, he was glaring down with all the force he could muster under the wide brim of his hat. Iron Bull blinked and followed his gaze down to a large soldier, laughing with some men and flexing his muscles. Iron Bull furrowed his brow and carefully sat down on the wall beside him.

“Careful, Kid. Looks might actually kill if they come from a demon.” Iron Bull contemplated Cole beside him, noting that his hair was shorter and curled slightly under his hat. He took in a deep breath and immediately recognized the sweet smell of expensive Orlesian soap that Dorian loved so much. Dorian had been a busy, nosy bee. 

“The Iron Bull, what’s a fop?” Cole asked. He began kicking his legs against the wall, still glaring down at the solider.

“Hmmmm, it’s a rich guy who’s really into his looks. Why?” Iron Bull asked.

“But that is Dorian and it’s not bad!” Cole exclaimed, casting his furious eyes over to Iron Bull. He pointed down to the courtyard. “Prancing, pratty peacock only good for one thing and that beast already claimed it. That soldier doesn’t understand anything but he’s always thinking like he does! He should stop!”

Cole’s hands curled into fists at his sides and Iron Bull checked them for daggers just in case. He glanced down casually at the soldier. Poor jealous fuck didn’t even know what he was really missing if he thought Dorian was just for show and a tickle. He’d never seen Dorian send devastating magic across a battlefield or listened to him rant passionately about reform in the Imperium. Dorian was much more than a pretty face, pretty as that face was.

“People think shitty things. You can’t do anything about that,” Iron Bull said mildly and then thought again. “Well, you could do something but Cullen might get mad if you stab his soldiers in the back for thinking nasty things about Dorian. You’d take out half the army. People don’t really trust him.”

“But why?” Cole asked, surprised. Then he frowned, eyes widening and going blank. “No, I do know. The Black Divine spreads his false fingers out into the faithful lands, watching, waiting. They think that Dorian is pretending. But he’s not! I could tell them that!”

Cole jumped to his feet, knees bending as though he was about to leap down into the courtyard and start defending Dorian’s honor right then and there. Iron Bull wrapped his hand around Cole’s bony ankle, charmed. He thumbed the soft exposed skin there.

“Somehow I don’t think most people will take a demon’s word that the big, bad magister is really a nice guy.” Iron Bull held his other hand up when Cole frowned heavily down at him. “I know, you want it to be spirit, but they don’t care about that. They see what they want to see and only they can change their mind.” 

Cole sank back down to the ground, face dejected and still angry. Iron Bull grinned and stood up. 

“Come with me, Kid.” Iron Bull began walking towards the stairs. Cole immediately sprang to his feet to follow him but he looked confused.

“Where are we going?” Cole blinked at him curiously. “Do you want me to show you what Dorian taught me?”

“Oh yes,” Iron Bull said with feeling. “But first I’m going to show you another good way to blow off some steam.”

 

Krem gave Iron Bull an impressively disapproving scowl despite barely moving a muscle on his stoic face when he pulled Cole into the training yard and asked his lieutenant to make sure that he got the space he needed for a fight.

“Kid’s tougher than he looks,” Iron Bull told him, remembering that Krem had never really seen Cole in action before.

“I’m sure, Chief, or Her Worship wouldn’t drag him out every other time she goes.” Krem gave Cole a little nod. “But I also know what a terror you are on the field when the Altus skips out. Grimm still hasn’t stopped whining about last time.”

“Just get us some space,” Iron Bull said with snarl, already too ready to get down to some fighting.

“Fine.” Krem frowned to let Iron Bull know that he thought he was a bully and turned to the Chargers milling about the training yard. “Listen up, you lot, you better back it up a bit unless you want The Iron Bull to get confused and gore you to death!”

“Thanks, Kremsicle.” Iron Bull turned to Cole. He was standing off to the side, holding his hands together and staring down to the ground. “You ready to go a round, Kid?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Cole said nervously, picking a bit at a loose string on his sleeve. 

To his credit, Krem didn’t even crack a smile at the comment and he shot Stitches a dirty look when he snorted. Dalish was smiling enigmatically but she always did that and Skinner looked savagely pleased, probably at the idea of Iron Bull thrashing a creature that had chosen against all reason to take the form of a shem boy.

Iron Bull just nodded slowly. “I know, Kid. But sometimes you want to hurt somebody. I get that. This is a good way to get that out when you can’t go fight Venatori or Red Templars for the Inquisitor.”

“We’re going to pretend to fight?”

Iron Bull began rolling his shoulders, limbering up. Cole was a long stalk of grain compared to him but he was deadly fast. “It won’t be pretending. I’ll really make your head ring if you aren’t careful. But we won’t be trying to kill each other.”

“I don’t know how to fight without killing.” Cole lifted up one of his daggers, bright against his pale face. “My dagger goes where it will hurt the most.”

“Then this will be good practice.” Iron Bull sighed when Cole still looked uncertain. “You won’t be able to kill me, Kid. I promise you that.”

Cole just stared up at Iron Bull with his big earnest eyes. They did something to Iron Bull; he recognized that. They made him hard, which didn’t take much, but they also tugged a bit on a part of him that he’d been trying to bury since the dreadnaught explosion had made it bigger. He knew what it was like to feel like a monster.

“You ready?” Iron Bull asked again.

Cole nodded and then disappeared. 

 

“Shit!” Iron Bull reached for Cole’s thin neck but only managed to catch his collar. He threw him to the ground hard and stared down at the deep gash Cole had torn in his chest. He’d known that Cole was fast but knowing that was different than having it directed completely on him.

Cole hit the ground at a bad angle but scrambled back up. As much as Iron Bull’s chest was stinging Cole still looked worse. He’d lost his hat completely in the scuffle—which Iron Bull thought was a high victory—and his bright blond hair was wild around his head as he shook it hard. He looked bloodied and bruised and fuck Iron Bull was hard as a rock.

“Practice’s over,” Iron Bull growled out.

Stitches came out towards them and Cole affixed suddenly feral eyes on him. Iron Bull shook him away when he went up to him.

“I’m fine.” Iron Bull nodded at Cole. “You okay, Kid?”

“Tearing temporary flesh, drawing out, pushing in, blood catching the surface and sticking.” Cole swallowed. “The Iron Bull?”

And Iron Bull knew that tone, although he’d only heard it once before, softer and more afraid as Cole had trembled in a corner and ached. 

“Put the boys through some paces,” Iron Bull told Krem sharply, never taking breaking eye contact with Cole. “If they have time to gawk at a fight, they have time to practice their own moves.”

His Chargers moaned out protests but Iron Bull had stopped hearing them, stopped hearing anything but the blood rushing through his head. He crossed the training yard in three big steps and then he was manhandling Cole up in one big arm. He dragged him up the nearest set of stairs and kept going up they reached an empty room. 

Iron Bull tossed Cole onto the bed so hard that he bounced. He was already clawing at his clothes and Iron Bull eagerly helped him out of them. Even his clothes smelled sweet, although now the high-class scent of Orlesian cologne was mixed with blood and dirt. Naked Cole was nothing but himself and that excited Iron Bull even more than the traces of Dorian on him.

“I won,” Iron Bull said firmly, unbuckling his loose trousers and letting them fall to the ground. He grasped Cole’s head in one big hand and pulled him towards his thickening cock, yanking on his bright curly hair.

Cole’s eyes flashed and Iron Bull stiffened more at the disobedience on his face. Cole slid his hand up and against the gash on Iron Bull’s chest, pressing down firmly. “You bled last.”

“Oh, Kid,” Iron Bull almost purred in satisfaction. “I’m going to enjoy taking you apart.”

 

Later after they’d spent a night grappling and struggling until Iron Bull had fully proven that he was the stronger, bigger monster, Cole woke him up with a violent coughing fit.

Iron Bull blinked up to the red-streaked sky, visible through the enormous hole in the roof, and shivered in the freezing morning air.

Cole coughed again, a deep sound that erupted from his pale chest. Iron Bull sat up in the bed and maneuvered Cole into his lap. 

“That doesn’t sound good,” Iron Bull murmured, rubbing his bony back. Cole just coughed more in response; his normally pale face flushed dark red in spots and blanched even whiter in others. He was shivering hard.

“There’s ice under my skin,” Cole said and his voice was raspy-rough. He closed his eyes. “The Iron Bull, I think I’m dying.”

Iron Bull pressed his hand against his forehead but it was obvious that he had a fever. He looked around for a moment and finally spotted a thick furred blanket that had been kicked out of bed during their fucking. He wrapped Cole up in it and settled him against his chest. 

“You’re not dying,” Iron Bull said firmly. “Did you feel sick at all yesterday?”

“I ached,” Cole said, sniffing against his chest. “There was an ache in my head and my legs and my arms and everyone’s hurts were boulders in the ache that hit one another.”

“You should have said something. I wouldn’t have tossed you around all afternoon if I knew you were getting sick.” Iron Bull blinked at the realization that Cole had been off his game when they’d sparred and yet he’d still managed to land some blows on him that he was still feeling.

“I liked it,” Cole said through chattering teeth. “I was free to be angry, without the threat of changing, and then you pulled pleasure out of my frustrations. The Iron Bull, it was very good. But this is very bad.”

“Yeah, being sick’s no fun. Come on.” Iron Bull stepped out of bed, easily folding Cole up into a sad, little bundle of pale limbs and warm fur. “I’ll kick Stitches awake and have him make you something.”

Cole must have been sick because he didn’t even protest the idea. Or perhaps he remembered that derisive snort Stitches had let out the other day. He simply pressed his hot forehead against Iron Bull’s chest and closed his eyes.

“You just relax, Kid. I’ve got you,” Iron Bull murmured and felt the raging heat of the other day fade into a warm ball that was protective and gentle but still thick across his chest, right under the torn skin.


End file.
